


I'm Proud of You

by earais



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earais/pseuds/earais
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki wins the Grand Prix Final after Viktor got injured during the Short Program. Now that he has the gold medal in his hands, he remembers the way he dealt with the news of Viktor’s injury.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is the first fanfiction I publish here and the first one I write for Yuri!!! on Ice. I hope I'm not messing up with the tags or anything >_  
> -First of all, I wrote this before the anime aired and before there was any information on the characters or on the events of the anime. So please, if you're going to read it, keep in mind that this is just how I imagined the characters to be, and they might be too ooc if you read it after watching the anime. Sorry about that!  
> -About Victor/Viktor's name: I know there are different opinions on this, but I personally use Viktor (after agreeing with several fans and with Russian friends who told me to use that spelling). If you find the difference too unpleasant, feel free not to read this fic.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this!

 

The gold medal was heavy against his hands as he held it, reminding him of the arduous path he had walked to achieve it. Every doubt, every tear, every fall, every injury, but also every smile. Winning that medal had been so painful that it took Yuuri a couple of minutes to process the fact that it was _his_ medal now. He had won it with hard work and he should be proud of it.

And yet, he could only remember the one person he felt was the true winner of that medal. His idol, his guide, his friend, his… there was no words to describe the relationship they had built in the last months.

The stadium was crackling with the applauses and cheers from his fans. Thousands of people had gathered to witness the final of a competition that had certainly made history. Yuuri knew that it was a huge accomplishment and he wished his face was beaming with happiness, but he could only fake a smile as his mind repeated the same sentence again and again.

_Viktor, you should have been here._

 

It had been a cruel joke from destiny. The man who had guided Yuuri towards victory had been the one to fall first, becoming injured after a bad fall that nobody was expecting —Viktor was just too good, too consistent for that kind of fall. Of course, Viktor had gotten up immediately and finished his short program, but the magic had been broken and his beautiful moves didn’t flow anymore. Yuuri watched the program with his hand gripping at his chest, feeling the cold sweat falling down his neck. No, this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Yuuri’s worst fears were soon confirmed, as he saw Viktor getting off of the ice after quickly bowing to the audience, his face serious and pale. The legendary skater had limped on his way to the kiss and cry and had waited for the scores with a stern face, holding a bag of ice against his ankle.

Soon after, Yuuri learned that Viktor had withdrawn from the competition. He looked for Viktor everywhere, but it was futile —Viktor was already on his way to the hospital. Yuuri knew that Viktor would never withdraw from a competition if he could still fight, no matter how painful it was for him, and yet…

He ran to the bathroom and hid behind the toilet door. Tears were falling down his cheeks again and he hated himself for being so weak. He was always crying; the crybaby who had needed a legendary skater to help him out of pity. Yuuri didn’t deserve to be in the Grand Prix Final if Viktor wasn’t there too. It was so unfair, he muttered. So unfair.

And then his tears turned into rage, because Viktor should have kept on fighting. Yuuri knew he was being irrational, but he was getting angrier and angrier at Viktor. He started kicking the door, channeling his rage through his legs.

You shouldn’t have given up, Viktor. It’s just an ankle. You sure can still fight for the medal.

Yuuri had lost track of time, but his kicks lost strength eventually. His eyes were full of tears and he couldn’t even see the door —he wondered if it had resisted his furious attacks. His eyes stung and his throat hurt from crying.

He fell to his knees and sobbed silently. His anger had evaporated and he realized how childish he had been just a moment ago. Of course Viktor would never give up, because he wasn’t the stupid Yuuri who had wanted to retire after a failure. If Viktor had withdrawn from the Grand Prix Final, it was because he had had no other choice, and he was probably hating himself, alone in the hospital, wondering how he could have made such a silly mistake.

That night, when he had returned to the hotel, Yuuri had taken a long shower and gone through everything in his mind again. After Viktor’s withdrawal, Yuuri was standing in the first position after the short program, and it looked like he had a good chance to win the Grand Prix. The future shone bright for his career, but Yuuri felt exhausted —physically and emotionally.

He went to sleep early, following the indications of his coach. If he wanted to have a good chance of winning the next day, he needed to be well-rested in the morning. Yuuri went to bed and felt the smooth sheets against his skin, wrapping him in a comfortable and protective nest after a chaotic day. He closed his eyes and the world became more distant with every exhalation.

And then he heard a bump. And another bump. Yuuri opened his eyes and listened carefully.

It came from the room next to his.

Viktor was back to the hotel.

His fists closed around the sheets. He inhaled deeply and kicked the sheets away, grabbing his glasses and running out of his bedroom. The next second he was banging on the door of Viktor’s room, an urgent and desperate knock.

He heard steps and the door opened, the light from the corridor invading the dark room and illuminating the face of his idol.

Viktor stared at Yuuri with a deep frown on his forehead. His face was still pale and his eyes were heavy with fatigue. They said nothing for a few seconds, and Yuuri realized that he had rushed out of his room without thinking of what he was supposed to tell Viktor. He sighed and looked down, noticing the crutch Viktor was holding onto.

“Is it that bad…?” Yuuri finally muttered.

Viktor just nodded, averting his eyes.

Yuuri’s chest burned with a thousand emotions. The pressure inside his body was so overwhelming that he thought he was going to explode. He opened his mouth to scream but his voice was broken by a sob.

He grabbed Viktor by the collar of his jacket and pressed his forehead against Viktor’s chest. Its warmth soothed his rage and he wept, babbling incoherent sentences. Viktor remained silent, as usual. Yuuri had noticed long ago that Viktor always kept his pain inside, and the young skater wished he could know what was going on inside the mind of his idol.

But Viktor wouldn’t speak. He would keep everything behind the mask he used to protect himself from the predatory world, the media, the fans.

Yuuri felt Viktor’s finger sliding down his cheek, reaching for his chin to raise his face. Their eyes met, and Yuuri felt ridiculous with his tears staining his face, but Viktor’s blue eyes didn’t judge him.

“Are you done now?” Viktor asked, his voice slightly harsh but his finger caressing Yuuri’s chin.

Yuuri cleaned his tears in a rush and nodded.

“Then win. Win for the both of us. Don’t let our effort go to waste.”

“I will,” Yuuri said, and he was surprised by the confidence of his voice.

A half smile crossed Viktor’s lips for a second before he turned around.

“Go to sleep now. Tomorrow’s the big day.”

He closed the door and Yuuri stood in front of it in silence. He was terrified. What if he failed? What if he disappointed Viktor and the rest of the world?

He shook his head. Viktor had worked hard to teach him how to deal with his nerves and doubts, and he wasn’t going to fall prey of his own mind again. He was ready to win, he thought as he closed his fists.

He would be the next Grand Prix champion.

 

Winning a medal wasn’t as easy as grabbing it and running away. Yuuri had to stand on the podium and pose for the photographers, greet the rest of competitors, get interviewed… There seemed to be no end to his new responsibilities.

He wondered if Viktor was watching him from the distance. Yuuri had looked around again and again but hadn’t seen him anywhere.

When he went to the press conference, he felt as a ghost. The fatigue in his muscles made the world seem unreal, and Yuuri had to stare at his medal again to remind himself that he had won.

A journalist asked him how he felt after winning the Grand Prix Final, and he almost muttered: “I don’t know.” But he stopped himself in time to think of something, anything, no matter how cliché, to tell to the media.

“It’s a dream come true… We’ve all worked so hard for this moment and I feel like all my effort has finally paid off. I’m very happy and…” He swallowed, and his words sounded sincere when he added: “And I would like to thank the people who have supported me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them.”

Everyone seemed pleased with this answer and he exhaled in relief.

It took a while, but the press conference ended and he was finally free to return to the hotel. Yuuri was so eager to arrive that he jumped off the bus as soon as the doors opened, and ran up the stairs because he couldn’t wait for the elevator.

As he arrived to his room, his phone beeped. A message. He opened it and read it.

_I’ll be waiting for you on the roof_.

It was Viktor. Yuuri’s heart beat faster and he didn’t even go to his room to change.  He dashed off, climbing up the stairs in a rush, feeling the medal bump against his chest.

The last flight of stairs.

He slammed the doors open and stepped out. The wind blew gently on the hotel roof and Yuuri could see the city all around him. The sun was setting in the horizon, dyeing the sky in a bright orange reflected on the buildings. In the distance, he could make out the shape of the stadium where he had won the Grand Prix.

Leaning on the far wall was Viktor. His body was relaxed and his injured foot was resting. The breeze caressed his soft hair and Yuuri could not see his expression from the distance.

Viktor took a couple of steps towards him, leaning on the crutch, and Yuuri ran to meet him. He took the medal out of his sweatshirt and showed it to him, the golden metal glistening under the orange sun.

“I think we both did well, didn’t we?” Yuuri asked, his smile hesitant.

He could see Viktor’s face now, and witnessed the beautiful flow from seriousness to surprise, and then to a widening smile.

A soft laugh escaped through Viktor’s lips. He took Yuuri’s chin and whispered:

“I told you you could do this.”

His hand slipped away from his chin, and Viktor pressed his fingertips against the medal, drawing a circle over its surface before his hand ended up resting over Yuuri’s.

“I’m so proud of you, Yuuri.”


End file.
